


Teachable moments

by littlemismatchedteacup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Currently digging myself out of the world's second largest writer's block, Discussion of the hot mess that was 8x17, Idiots in Love, Jealous Dean, M/M, post 12x12, ranting disguised as sappy Deancas, with a hint of Jealous Cas at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemismatchedteacup/pseuds/littlemismatchedteacup
Summary: Dean sees the tiny brunette way before Cas ever does, not because he was checking her out - okay, maybe just a little when he and Cas had first entered the bar and he'd spotted her laughing with her friends, more of a cursory once-over than anything. But now he’s definitely watching her without looking directly at her, because for the last half hour she’s been glancing their way more and more often, a lascivious smile on her face as she twirls a glossy curl of hair around her finger. Or more specifically, she’s been glancing at the seat next to Dean, currently occupied by a clueless Castiel intently reading the label of his imported beer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finished this five minutes before I went to bed. I'll look over it for edits later.

Dean sees the tiny brunette way before Cas ever does, not because he was checking her out - okay, maybe just a little when he and Cas had first entered the bar and he'd spotted her laughing with her friends, more of a cursory once-over than anything. But now he’s definitely watching her without looking directly at her, because for the last half hour she’s been glancing their way more and more often, a lascivious smile on her face as she twirls a glossy curl of hair around her finger. Or more specifically, she’s been glancing at the seat next to Dean, currently occupied by a clueless Castiel intently reading the label of his imported beer.

When she rises from her seat, gaze locked on Cas’s shoulders as she makes her way through the crowd, Dean instinctively tenses like his body’s preparing for an incoming punch, grip tightening on his beer bottle. The intent in her gaze is unmistakable as she strides confidently forward, shaking her hair out and discretely tugging down on her halter top.

Dean has no friggin’ clue who the girl is or why his dislike for her is so immediate, wondering if he can reach for his flask and splash her with holy water without making a scene. Then it clicks, who she looks like, and Dean would laugh if he wasn’t so embarrassed for himself.

Like witnessing a head-on collision about to happen, Dean can only watch as the brunette slides right up to Cas at the bar, putting herself well within the angel’s personal bubble.

“Heya, handsome,” she purrs, and Dean could happily stab himself in the ear, the smokey drawl is that similar. Beside him, Castiel startles, probably wondering how she appeared practically in his lap so suddenly and if demonic magic is involved. “Haven’t seen you around these parts before. What’d you say we head back to my place and get to know one another better?”

Dean whistles lowly before Cas can answer, unable to hold back the snark. He supposes he should be grateful she didn’t call him _Clarence_. “Wow. Brazen.”

Her eyes are venomous when they flicker at Dean, but when they switch back to Cas, she’s all smiles. “What can I say, I’m a girl that knows what she wants. So how about it, big boy?” She reaches up to place a hand on Castiel’s arm, and Dean can feel his blood pressure rising. “You game?”

Dean takes an angry pull from his beer to drown out the ringing in his ears.

“I’m sorry, my friend and I have had a long day at, um, work, and we’re just here to drink,” Cas says, and it bothers Dean that he can’t tell if Cas is politely telling her to fuck off or if he’s saying he’d rather stay and get to know her here. And Cas hasn’t shaken her hand off.

She covers her initial shock well, Dean’ll give her that. She recovers in time to smoothly say, “Are you sure? I got drinks at my place, too. I’ll even let you take a shot off my stomach.” She smiles hopefully up at him as she slides her hand further up Cas's arm. “And other places...”

In a motion too quick for Dean’s puny human eyes to follow, Cas snatches her hand off his arm, not hard enough to hurt her, but Dean can tell from her wide-eyed stare that she got one hell of a shock.

When Cas speaks again, his voice is as cool as the blue in his icy eyes. “I’m with my friend. Please let us be.”

Dean smiles his victory into the rim of his bottle, his shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. “You heard him. Beat it, sweetheart.”

She yanks her hand out of Castiel’s, her upper lip curling in disdain. “Whatever, I’ve got better offers anyway.”

Castiel frowns at him when she flounces away in a huff, her friends quickly descending to sweep her into their arms and console her. When Dean spots her dabbing at her eyes, he almost feels bad. _Almost_. “What was that all about?” Cas demands.

“What can I say Cas? You’ve got that whole broodingly sexy thing going on.” He almost panics, but then remembers he called Cas devastatingly handsome in front of him at that diner the other day, so he figures he’s in the clear. “Chicks dig that.”

“No, not that -” Cas huffs, strangely flustered. He _pick_ , _pick_ , _picks_ at the label of his bottle. “ _That_. Why did you have to be so rude to her? Contrary to what you think, Dean, I am able to handle myself.”

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes Cas. “Obviously, dude. Just trying to be your wingman.”

“If I understand the term correctly, you can’t be a wingman if the other party doesn’t express interest. I didn’t. I, erm, wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Dean says, unsure of what else to say, if Cas wants him to say anything else.

“Yes, well. . .” Castiel ducks his head, fiddles with his bottle that’s been empty for a while now. Dean signals for the bartender, and Cas smiles his thanks, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Dean has to brace himself for the long-familiar curl of warmth blossoming in his chest.

Dean taps his foot against the bar stool while the bartender hands them their refills. He should just find something else to talk about, or go back to whatever it was they were talking about before, but it’s like a scab now he just wants to pick at until it bleeds. “So, you really weren’t interested, then? You weren’t just blowing her off because I’m here?” he asks, hope like new spring buds sprouting in his chest.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas answers, and there’s a smile in his voice that makes Dean smile too. “Believe it or not, I find your company much preferable to that of a complete stranger’s.”

“Even a pretty one?” _Pick_ - _pick_ - _pick_. “I thought tiny brunettes with big mouths were your thing,” Dean smirks, his voice brittle.

Castiel, if possible, looks even more confused, with a side of Dean-I’m-concerned-you-may-have-a-concussion. “Dean, what are you . . .?”

Dean wipes a hand down his face. “Oh, my god - _Meg_ , Cas. I’m talking about Meg.”

Poor Cas looks utterly bewildered now. “Meg? The demon? What does she have to do anything?”

Dean eyes Cas steadily, trying to determine if the bastard is fucking with him. Cas stares back, the tiniest bit of anger tightening his mouth. “You don’t think that chick looked like Meg?”

“Well, what you knew as Meg was just a meatsuit-“

Now, he might actually be fucking with him. “No, that’s -” Dean shakes his head in frustration, runs a hand through his hair. “I know that, but that’s not what I meant”

Castiel opens his mouth, stops, and then squints so hard that Dean’s worried that Cas might have actually been shortsighted this entire time. “Dean, are you trying to imply that I was _interested_ in Meg?”

Cas’s voice is a mixture of horror and disbelief with an edge of growing amusement, but Dean stands his ground. “I’m not implying anything. I caught the tail end of that moving furniture conversation.” Dean makes a face, very nearly gagging for real. “Really, dude?”

But Castiel remains nonplussed. “Dean . . . I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What? Sure you do,” Dean insists. “You know, during the whole Lucifer’s crypt business when you, um - and we, um -” What an unfortunate time to remember that he and Cas have never really talked about the time a brainwashed Castiel beat the living shit out of Dean in Lucifer’s grimy, cobwebbed crypt. “Kinda of hard to forget that, heh.”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably, looking down where his fingers twist in his lap. “I . . . actually don’t remember a whole lot from my time under Noami’s control,” he confesses in a small voice Dean can just barely hear over the din of the bar, even though they’re sitting so close their shoulder are touching. “And what I do remember, I’ll spend the rest of my existence wishing I could forget.”

Dean flinches, because yeah, he can relate, but still . . . “You were acting all weird and more dickish than usual, yeah, but you were pretty protective of her. You sent her off with Sam when you and I went into the crypt,” Dean recalls carefully, trying hard not to sound like he’s accusing Cas - or rather, mind-controlled Cas - of showing preference for Meg over Dean.

At that, Cas looks swiftly up at Dean, eyes wide and apologetic. “Dean, I know you want this to all be water under the bridge, but please believe me when I say I’ll never stop being sorry for hurting you.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says fiercely.

Castiel allows a smile. “Regardless, you should know that Naomi considered you the biggest threat to our - _her_ \- mission. Killing you if you got in the way - which you did,” he adds with a sigh that is almost exasperated, “was her main concern. As for Meg, she knew where the tablet was, and she couldn’t tell me if she was dead, and therefore spared from Naomi’s wrath. If there was one reason that I attempted to protect Meg, it was to pay the debt I made when she saved me from Hester. That’s where our . . . relationship, if you can call it that, ends.” He hesitates, then leans in closer to Dean. “No matter what, if she had turned against us, I wouldn’t have hesitated to strike her down to protect you, nor would I have regretted it.”

Dean ducks his heads, but he knows the corner of his mouth is pulling up in a please little smile, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in his veins. “Aw, Cas, you say the sweetest things.”

“It’s all true,” Cas says simply. “I meant it what I said in the barn, Dean. I love you, you are my family.”

Right about now, warning bells should be going off in his head, telling him there’s not enough space between them for two full-grown men (well, one man and one man-looking angel) to be sitting this close. Instead, Dean allows himself to back him the moment of being _loved_. Maybe it won’t ever be the way Dean wants it to be, but it’s still more than he’s ever had. A best friend, a brother-beyond-blood.

Pursing his lips, Dean nods slowly, turning this world-shifting revelation over in his mind. “So, just so we’re clear, you don’t like . . . like her like her.”

“Dean,” Castiel says slowly, like he is seriously worried for Dean’s mental stability now. “She was a demon. She reeked.”

Dean nearly falls out of his seat at that, clutching his belly as he laughs and laugh and laugh until tears form in his eyes. Castiel even allows himself a small chuckle, waiting until Dean can compose himself,

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Dean huffs in amazement. “Dude, why did you never tell me this?!”

Cas shrugs helplessly. “Because it doesn’t matter? I don’t go asking if you and Benny had sexual relations,” he points out reasonably when Dean tips back his beer.

Dean nearly spits out his drink. “ _I did not fuck Benny_!” he sputters in a choked half-whisper.

The smirking bastard just shrugs. “Well, I didn’t know for sure, but now I do.”

“Ass,” Dean says as he wipes his mouth off with the back off his hand. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels fingertips - _Cas’s fingertips, holy shit_ \- brush hesitantly down the back of his hand. “Uh, Cas?”

In the low lighting of the bar, Cas is drop dead gorgeous, all sharp cheekbones and plush lips. None wonder he got hit on within an hour of sitting down. But with the way Cas is looking at him now, he might as well be the only other person in this bar.

“Dean, would you . . .” Dean watches, fascinated, as Castiel pauses to inhale deeply, his nostrils flaring. His lips are shiny from the beer. “Would you like to know what, erm, sort of person I’m attracted to?”

“Oh.” Does he sound disappointed? Should he be disappointed? What is Cas getting at? “Um, sure?”

“Well . . . the type of person I’m attracted to, they’re brave, at times to the point of recklessness. They’re generous, even to people who don’t deserve it. Their soul shines so brightly that sometimes it’s all I can see. Yet the one person who can’t see his goodness is himself.”

“Him? Cas, you’re not about to tell me you’ve got the hots for Sam, are you?” Dean whispers, his heart pounding like it’s trying to escape from his chest. He’s lightheaded, and it’s not from the alcohol.

Cas breaks into a gummy smile, the biggest Dean has ever seen on the angel, and Dean’s own smile tries valiantly to match it. “You’re also the single most infuriatingly person I’ve ever met.”

“I find that hard to believe, I’ve met your family.”

“Dean.”

He grimaces. “Sorry, I’m nervous”

“That’s okay,” Cas assures him, his pointer fingers tracing circles into the soft skin of Dean’s hand, leaving a tingling warmth behind, “so am I. Although, you have more experience in this than me.”

“Not in this,” Dean corrects softly. He can’t believe he’s doing this in some dive bar, surrounded by a crowd of strangers, but he is, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Fooling around, picking up strangers at bars, sure, but, this -” He makes a finger motion between himself and Cas “- _Us_. This is all new for me.”

A beat, and Cas’s eyes marginally widen. It occurs to Dean for the first time that Cas might really not know that Dean is just as head over heels in love with Castiel as he is with him. “. . . Really?”

Without even thinking about it, Dean leans forward until his mouth meets Castiel’s, eyes slipping to half-mast as he presses into the soft skin.

No one screams at them, no angels or demons come storming into the bar, the world doesn’t stop turning. But Cas’s hand presses where it rests atop Dean’s, and Dean can taste the beer on Castiel’s mouth. They pull back after only a moment, even though Dean is already itching to get his mouth back on Castiel, to really taste him, to touch him all over.

“Hey, Cas, you, uh -” Dean can’t help himself, laughs. “Whatya say we pay and head on home?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Get to know each other?”

Castiel’s eyes are suspiciously misty as he gazes up at Dean, and Dean doesn’t mention it, knowing he’s probably not all that better. “That sounds wonderful, Dean.”


End file.
